


The Piano

by alucinor



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-03
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-28 04:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10070495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alucinor/pseuds/alucinor
Summary: Gokudera finds the piano in the community center.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Suggested listening material (or what I imagined Gokudera playing): [ River Flows In You by Yiruma](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7maJOI3QMu0).

Hayato stood alone in the warmly lit room, the only piece of furniture was a glossy black grand piano. The window was open, the chirps of the birds of summer echoing into the silence of the room. He knew it had been a mistake to come to the community center with Jyuudaime and the baseball idiot, but once he heard that there was a piano room, he couldn't stop himself from saying no.

Jyuudaime and the baseball idiot could be heard clearly through the open door, chasing after the baby cowhead and I-pin. Jyuudaime's mother was laughing along with the baseball idiot while Jyuudaime was chasing the hyperactive kids around the new community center.

There was still the fresh leather smell from the piano bench, the glossy finish of the black paint still unmarred by fingerprints of strangers and curious children.

Hayato could still remember the first time that he had sat on a piano bench with his mother, the warmth that his mother had emitted along with the comfortable scent of sandalwood mixed with the smell of the leather and dust. The piano keys had been barely eye level, but Hayato remembered the magic of the moment when his mother had played on the white and black keys, the music wafting lightly through the air and dancing cleanly towards that ceiling.

The piano also made him remember his sister Bianchi and his father. His first piano recital. His first time playing for his father. He had been so nervous, and so proud. He remembered the heavy scent of tobacco when his father knelt by his side, and the sweet smell of rotting flowers that was Bianchi, who was proudly holding a tray of her deadly purple cookies.

The piano in front of him now made him remember when Shamal had ran into his practice room in the mansion, pale faced and sweating with news of his mother's dive off the cliff. He remembered from that time the apology written in Shamal's eyes, and the absolute apathy in his father's eyes when he came to dinner that night.

Hayato checked what Jyuudaime was doing, and after making sure that he was in relative safety, he allowed himself to approach the instrument that sat in the corner of the room.

He closed the door a bit, to avoid attention, and reached out to touch the frame of the piano lightly.

The finish was smooth and silky under his calloused fingers, the feel familiar and comforting, though he didn't allow himself to linger too long on that feeling of comfort. Hayato glance furtively around instinctively, before seating himself on the piano bench whose leather squeaked with newness.

Gently, unbelievably gently, Hayato lifted the cover, revealing to the warm light the ivory and black keys. He stroked his hands over the wooden keys. Their texture was familiar and as welcoming as his mother's hugs. He felt something in himself click into place with a silent sigh.

This was what he had been missing after finding the Jyuudaime. After finding his bombs. After avoiding pianos in fear of Bianchi's cooking.

He pressed a single key down, the key giving way easily, and the lone note spiraled among the cries of the cicadas outside. Hayato smiled slightly and placed both hands on the keyboard, memory carrying him effortlessly through scales.

Unknown to him, his lips had stretched into a wide, delighted grin of pure joy.

Hayato ignored the world now, his world focused on the black and white keys in front of his eyes. He stroked a hand lovingly over the keys, before closing his eyes and simply letting one of his old favorite classics flow through his hands, into the piano, out into the air.

The sounds spun elegantly around Hayato, wrapping him into a warm cocoon of his mother's embrace as she sat behind on the piano bench on a summer afternoon and taught him patiently each bar. He swayed lightly with the melody weaving around him, completely lost in the music.

He didn't know when the noise stopped outside of the room. When Tsuna and Yamamoto slowly eased open the door and listened in awe at the music that poured so easily out of him. He didn't know when Lambo and I-pin sat at Tsuna and Yamamoto's feet listening in rare silence as his pale hands flickered over the keys.

He was home. And that was all that mattered.


End file.
